


Are you Drunk?

by rainftw



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Jogerweek2019, Kissing, M/M, crack almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainftw/pseuds/rainftw
Summary: Roger somehow falls asleep on the grass in the park. Whatever happens, happens.





	Are you Drunk?

**Author's Note:**

> go figure

“Bella, no!”

Roger watched the small Chihuahua running off, nearing the edge of the little pond. He pushed himself off the ground, with more difficulty than it probably warranted, and jogged off to keep up. When he eventually caught up with the small animal he was red faced and panting, embarrassingly. He picked her up in his arms, cradling her against his sturdy chest.

“Don’t do that!” He scalded.

The little dog looked up at him, big eyes full of pure innocence, Roger almost couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“Don’t pull that card with me!”

Bella barked quietly then. Barked was an overstatement, it was more of a mewl. Roger’s whole heart melted into a puddle at his feet.

“Fine, you win.” He resigned himself from the one sided argument. With his dog.

He walked them both back to his spot on the grass, clipping the leash back around her tiny, tiny throat. Not able to help how his heart hurt a little at the action. She seemed happy enough though, settling herself down in his lap, tongue hanging heavily from her mouth. Ears turned up. Roger petted her head gently as he laid them both down. Cooing at the dog slowly falling asleep upon his chest.

He awoke with a start, heart pounding heavily in his chest. His bed felt strangely, damp? He reached down to run a finger through the _grass_? He groaned. Looking over to his side to, thankfully, find Bella sound asleep next to him. He patted his back pocket. At least he hadn’t been mugged.

“Bloody hell!” Came a shout from the pond, a few metres away.

As if his heart hadn’t already had enough of a workout, it picked up a steady jackhammer pace again. He looked around frantically, trying to localise the source of the voice. A figure came closer then, Roger pulled Bella against him protectively.

“Who the fuck are you?” Roger hissed.

“I could be asking the same question.”

It was _dark_ outside, and a Monday. But he supposed the stranger had a valid point, Roger just hoped he wasn’t a serial killer.

“Fair enough.”

The figure came closer, Roger squinted. He looked, wet. About the same age as himself. Long dark hair plastered around his face and clinging to his back and chest, which was _exposed_.

“Are you drunk?” The boy asked then. Roger shook his head.

“Are _you_?”

“Surprisingly not.”

Roger shrugged. He didn’t know what overcame him with his next sentence, but by the time it left his mouth. He felt it too late to take it back. “Wanna come back to mine?”

The boy smiled then, walking the remaining couple of metres up to Roger and extending a hand, which Roger gratefully accepted. He was pulled to his feet with almost no difficulty, the slippery wet hand not making for the best grip. When they were face to face the boy uttered a simple “Please.” And that was that.

“Care to tell me why you were sleeping on the grass?” The boy’s voice, _John_, he’d learnt on the walk home, asked from somewhere in the living room.

Roger emerged from the kitchen with two cups of tea, both to be polite and in a desperate attempt to warm them both up from the chilly autumn air they just came inside from. It _had_ been warm during the day, he insisted. That’s why he was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

“You fell asleep on the grass, and didn’t wake up until midnight?” John asked, as if per confirming he’d heard the story correctly. Roger nodded.

“What about you, Mr. Emerging from a pond soaking wet with your shirt unbuttoned at midnight?” Roger asked all in one breath. Accidentally brushing his foot against John’s calf, beneath the blanket they were sharing. Because it was Roger’s only blanket. He flushed momentarily.

“I fell.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.” Roger teased.

“It’s embarrassing!” John hid his face in his, impressively, large hands. Roger noted that some of the fingers were ring-clad. He hummed appreciatively, they were pretty.

“Do tell.” Roger tried to pry.

“It was a dare.” John’s voice suddenly sounded so small, Roger almost didn’t have it in him to mock the statement.

“A dare?” He questioned instead. Nudging his foot against John’s leg, deliberately this time.

“Yes.” There was a gap between John’s two front teeth, Roger was intrigued.

“How old _are_ you?” Roger had thought they were around the same age, he couldn’t have been off by a good decade, could he? Surely not.

“I’m twenty-one.” John mumbled, seeming too blush even more. Roger continued rubbing his foot against John’s calf then, testing the waters. John didn’t pull away. They shared a shy smile. Roger found he was quite content leaving it there. Not needing to utter the obvious comment lingering in the air. Who plays truth or dare in their twenties.

“I’m twenty-three.” He said instead.

“Good to know.” John said, Roger didn’t question it.

Time passed then, John watched as Bella slept upon the little armchair across the room. Roger watched as the remainder of the water seemed to evaporate from John’s long, brunette, hair. Turning it kind of wavy, it was pretty. He noted.

John turned to him and smiled, Roger tilted his head in contemplation. His mouth seemed to be working faster than his common sense a lot lately. Or maybe he just didn’t have a filter, he wasn’t sure. He felt confident though, and comfortable.

“Do you want to kiss?”

“Yeah.”

And it was so _easy_ to manoeuvre John to straddle his lap. Lazily pressing their lips together, feeling the steel of John’s rings against his face as he cradled his jaw gently. John had his tongue pressed to Roger’s bottom lip, and it was as if Roger could do nothing else but allow him in. Slowly licking into one another’s mouths. It was nice and languid. Their noses brushed together, Roger was pleasantly surprised to find that even _that_ was smooth. Everything about John seemed to be soft edges and silky planes.

“Stay over?” Roger almost whispered when they eventually parted. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be disgusted when John wiped the saliva, connecting them by the lips, away with his thumb. Resisting the urge to suck the finger between his own lips.

“Of course.”

John took Bella’s place upon Roger’s chest then. Buried his face in the hallow of his throat, Roger could swear he even purred like a cat. He buried his fingers into John’s thick hair, scratching at his scalp, if only to hear that contented noise again. If he fell asleep to the soft rhythm of John’s breaths against his throat, Roger wouldn't admit to it. Maybe he'd make it to bed the third time he wakes up.

**Author's Note:**

> surprise. none of them were drunk, they're just crackheads


End file.
